


what a shame she's fucked in the head

by firrehearrt



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Champagne Problems, F/M, I'm never writing another happy thing and it's because of Evermore, Not A Happy Ending, Oneshot, Songfic, proposal, sort of 1920's setting but I know nothing about how to write that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firrehearrt/pseuds/firrehearrt
Summary: Feysand to champagne problems, otherwise known as the one where Feyre's haunted by unspoken things and Rhys' heart is made of glass.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23
Collections: Best Fanfic





	what a shame she's fucked in the head

**Author's Note:**

> yeah I don't have an explanation for this one have fun with it
> 
> unbeta'ed, slightly edited
> 
> gonna go drink some water bc hydration is important and I may or may not have cried writing this one

The ring is lovely. Feyre never saw herself wanting a diamond, growing up. Even before her family had lost every cent, and she’d been anticipating a life of luxury, passed off to some suitor her father deemed appropriate, the romantic in her had wanted something simpler, something more personal. 

But Rhys’ mother’s ring was a diamond, set in a simple band. It screamed them, somehow, though she couldn’t explain it. Though it was chosen long before anyone though they’d be using it. Even though she had at one point thought the tradition horrifying, owning a dead woman’s ring. But- that he would give her this. Entrust her with something that once belonged to the woman that had raised him, made him who he was. The woman he cherished, even years after her death. Entrust her with the ring of the woman she had never met. 

It’s too much. 

Everything in her screams to say yes, take the ring. Kneel with him, damn the dress she was wearing. Damn the crowd around them. 

He doesn’t even get through everything he had prepared before-

“Rhys, I can’t.”

Speechless.

Her heart tears in two. 

The dance around them goes silent, the music stops, jaw drop, everyone frozen in time. 

Her heart stops. 

He had more to his speech, she’s sure of it. And she stopped him, before he got two sentences in. 

But her gaze focuses on the ring, blood pounding in her ears. Commitment, years together, forever. 

Stability, though. And that ought to make her say yes. 

No- she loves him. That ought to be the reason she accepts the ring, slips it onto her finger as she had seen Elain do. As she had seen Nesta do. Her sisters, that had always had more walls than her could allow for vulnerability. Why not her?

Silently, she begs for something to happen. Anything to distract from her rejection. 

In front of her, and still, worlds away, Rhys clears his throat, snapping the ring box shut, promptly standing. Her eyes are still glued to the spot where he was mere moments ago as he makes his way outside to the gardens. Leaving her to face everyone else. Her eyes go wide, her eyes burn. 

Why the hell did she say no?   
Right, commitment. And all that. 

Oh god. 

She just lost the love of her life. 

She hustles out of the room, more than aware of the eyes tracking her every move, his sister numbered among them. The doors to the ballroom slam behind her, and she collapses against the door. 

_ Go to him _ .

What would he say? 

This is far from the first time she’s disappointed him. Far from the first time her insecurities caused a rift between them. 

This is the last time, though. 

They could never come back from that. 

Would he reassure her, soothe the ache?

(Of course he would). 

He’d run his hands up and down her arms, coaxing warmth into them in the cold. The garden is dead, the fountains frozen. He’d offer her his jacket, hold her as she cried. As if she’s the one who just got rejected in front of every important figure in her life. 

When she was younger, her mother told her the story of Cinderella. The words her mother once whispered to her as she fell asleep play in her head as she runs outside, promptly finding their car and driver. He doesn’t question the tears in her eyes, the makeup that’s surely running down her face as she loads her suitcase into the back, hugging it as though without it she would disappear into the grief. He doesn’t question as she begs to be taken to the station not ten minutes from here. Doesn’t question the fact that it’s nearing midnight and everything she’s doing screams improper. 

What is bustling with people normally is silent as she purchases a ticket. Deserted, as empty as she feels right now. 

Silence, on the ride to her father’s estate. Nothing but the consistent chug of the train, that her heartbeat adjusts to. 

No one around her. 

And she can’t decide if it’d be worse if it wasn’t the middle of the night. If the ache would burn more or less to see people around her, feeling happiness she ought to be feeling right now. Seeing people celebrating as she ought to right now. 

She stares out the window, darkness rushing past her, echoing the life she sees slipping through her fingers. 

She’d promised him she was ready, is the worst part. Promised she wouldn’t run, not from him. Had drawn up a tiny sketch of the two of them, neatly fitting it in his wallet. Kissing his cheek the morning after they’d talked as he’d left for the next week. 

But he hadn’t told her. 

And really, that’s no excuse, because she knew it was coming. Not knowing the exact moment is no reason to have said no. No reason to have shattered his heart. 

She did it anyway. 

Months later, the ache is still just as sharp. He hasn’t come for her though. Made no attempt to contact her, but, neither has she. Who can blame him, really. 

She’s twisted it around in her head, looking from every angle. But really, she couldn’t have known that she would say no. It would have played out that way no matter what he did to propose. 

Because she loves him. Every bit of her loves him. 

But she wouldn’t have known the depth of that fear, until he was on his knee in front of her, words pouring out of his mouth. 

She writes, like crazy, in the months after her life falls apart. 

Draws too, draws every bit of them, writes about him. Writes about how she knew she loved him when she met him, but couldn't say it back for a year. She writes memories of trips to London with him and Aria, his sister becoming like her own. 

She collects it in a pile, and a year later:

_ He’ll find someone better though. Someone that deserves that love, someone that can say yes without any hesitation. If he hasn’t already. Perhaps he’s replaced that picture in his wallet with the one I drew of his mother. Given Aria the ring.  _

_ Maybe they’ve forgotten.  _

_ Maybe they will one day.  _

And burns everything the next day. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/firrehearrt)


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